


Moments

by siba



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siba/pseuds/siba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some nice Valentines day fluff for the SP Fandom about Stan and Kyle growing up together and cherishing moments in their lives!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

There are some moments when you just know that nothing will ever be the same. Moments that you don’t realize will mean the world to you when you’re older, when you’ve burnt bridges and when you’ve finally decided to take a leap of faith that didn’t actually work, leaving you to drown in the mistakes of the past and look towards those moments, like shining beacons of hope that somehow would justify all that you did in order to be with the one you love. Those moments for me, Kyle Broflovski, all came within the mile markers of the small town known as South Park; before the bridges were burnt and I was left to drown in the river of what ‘could have been’.  
The first, came in our fifth grade year at South Park elementary, during a time in which I was confused. I was confused about a lot of things, Why were mom and dad getting a divorce? Why was I feeling funny things for one of my friends? I knew what the concept of being Gay was-  
But I never thought It’d happen to Me. It’d only give that fatass, Cartman even more to tease me about besides being a ginger and a Jew, the former of which was something that I hated so much that I’d barely take my hat off; even around Stan. When I think back to it, Stan was really the only true friend I had during all of those years of dealing with Cartman’s bullshit and Kenny’s constant health issues, although when he wasn’t in the hospital or pronounced dead for the millionth time, he was pretty cool too back then. But neither of them were cool enough, or rather, trustworthy enough to the point that I could tell them about what was going on. They were clueless up until they saw the moving van, the day my dad moved out and moved to another city just outside of South Park, leaving Ike, my mom, and I to fend for ourselves.  
With Ike, I had to grow up fast and that no longer included hanging out with the guys by the bus stop and stalking Chef like it was our job, or whatever the hell it was we got ourselves into on a daily basis whether it was legal or not. I needed to be there for Ike to help him with his homework, to walk him home from school and to help him make the right choices since mom was working double the shifts now to cover for our expenses and dad was no longer around, or even calling that much during those days. There was only one person willing to be my friend and remain by my side during the entire thing with no questions asked. Stan.  
It was a sunny afternoon when Stan and I were walking Ike back to my house, from there we would hang out and finish our homework before Stan’s dad would come and pick him up after work. Ike had just been complaining about how hungry he was when Stan pulled out a hot dog, the same ones that came wrapped from our lunchroom that day, where we had the same exact thing just a few hours later.  
“Dude, how’d you get that? You know we’re not supposed to take food from the lunch room.” I said in a vague protest as he pulls out another two, for all three of us to have one on our trek back to my house.  
“Yea I know, I snuck in before we went back to class. I figured we’d be hungry later-” Stan had shrugged it off and continued eating his hot dog like it was no big deal that he thought about not only me, but Ike when he thought of getting food.  
That was the moment I knew I liked Stan much more than any other friend, more than Kenny, Cartman by far, and even butters.  
The next moment came several years later in the seventh grade, we were all beginning to get into that awkward hormone-driven, sex crazed time in our lives when touching boobies was the only thing that any guy had on their mind at any given time. All of the guys in our class were going to this party at Bebe’s house, since her parents were gone for the weekend, so she was throwing the first ever ‘rager’ for our South Park class. As always, I went with Stan, because I couldn’t stand the sound of Cartman talking for more than five minutes, nor deal with the stress of getting Kenny to the hospital in case he was run over by a car or something.  
When we got there, those who were there were sitting around in Bebe’s living room, drinking Coke and various other soda’s while Bebe was putting in a movie for everyone to watch, and as luck would have it, she picked a horror movie. Needless to say, About ten minutes in, I was getting nervous, I was fidgeting in my seat on the couch beside Stan, looking down at my shoes and trying not to think to much about the sounds of crunching bones and blood gushing everywhere from the TV screen. But it was there, the sounds, the screaming. It all bothered me to the point that I felt like I was going to be sick. But leaving held it’s own implications besides just getting out of an awful horror movie experience. It meant getting ridiculed by the class for the rest of my life (Which I thought was about a week in reality) about how I was too pussy to watch a horror movie, I could damn near hear the taunting Cartman would begin with…  
So I stayed, fidgeting and visibly upset to anyone who would give a damn enough to look my way; who just happened to be Stan. “Hey guys, my curfew is eight so I gotta go.” He says as he places a hand on top of my knee and begins to stand, offering the rest of the part a nonchalant shrug as I stand up too and we begin to make our way towards the door, listening to the insults once more of cartman and the complaining of Craig.  
But I didn’t give a damn, neither did Stan as we walked back to my house. That was the moment I knew that I couldn’t live without him.  
The next moment came our sophomore year in high school, where again, we were invited to Bebe’s for a rager. But now, they involved something more than just drinking soda and watching horror movies. Now it was making out in the bedrooms of Bebe’s house, playing spin the bottle and a constant game amongst the guys to see just how far they can all go in one night and how much they can all drink before they have to walk home, or for the lucky few, drive home. Everyone in the room during the game of spin the bottle was anxious to see who they would land on, there was nearly fifteen of us all in one circle after all. Before I knew it, it had turned into seven minutes in heaven, making out behind couches, in closets, under stairs, and even going into the bathrooms and bedrooms in order to finish their seven minutes. I wasn’t the one to spin, I was never the one to spin because I was never the one to win the spin by taking a shot.  
No, the one to win was stan, who spun the bottle with such a force because I knew he didn’t want it to land on Wendy, just across from him in the circle. They’d been on and off ever since freshman year, so much so that everyone just assumed that they were off limits, but I knew. I was there the entire time listening to Stan rant about the things that Wendy did to piss him off, and then a week later, they were back together.  
I swore to myself that I hated her because she kept hurting Stan, not because I wanted to be her. To be with Stan rather than face this torture that was being by his side through it all, closeted gay who couldn’t even come out to his best friend, just in case he got rejected.  
Luckily, the bottle didn’t land on Wendy, it landed on me and unless Stan wanted to literally Kiss Cartman’s ass, we had to be locked in a room for seven minutes and pretend like he were making out. Of course I was fully expecting the gay insults once Stan and I were locked in the hall closet together, surrounded by cleaning supplies and chest to chest since the closet itself was very very small.  
“Dude, you’re totally taller than me now..” Stan teases as I meet his gaze, a small, impish smile coming to my lips as I look into the eyes of my old friend. “Shut up man, you know you’re taller than me-” I replied back, gently using my hand to poke the side of his favorite maroon jacket, hiding his Call of Duty shirt just underneath. But rather than poking him and removing my hand, it accidentally got caught on a snag piece of string, and rather than pull it away and ruin his favorite jacket, my hand came to rest on the space just above his hip.  
“Shit, sorry man there’s a string-” But I was cut off by stan’s voice and a small chuckle, “Hey don’t worry, It’s fine dude.” He replies back once more in the dim light of the closet, the only source being the small space between the door and the floor that allowed light in from the hallway, where no doubt people were waiting for our seven minutes to be up.  
“You know, I think me and Wendy are over for good.” He finally whispers of several moments of me trying to control myself in order to not allow my hand to go any lower than it already was, or to slip under Stan’s shirt and feel his rigid, chiseled chest I knew he had because of his years of playing football, that and we hung out shirtless all the time around each other..  
“Why?” I inquired with a small frown and an obvious curiosity into the matter, of course, on one hand I was ecstatic because I didn’t have to deal with anyone else hogging stan, taking our beloved Friday nights playing call of duty or dragging his ass around and torturing him by liking him one day and hating him the next. “Just isn’t working out.” He says with a shrug, a signal I knew after years to just drop the subject. But speaking of taboo subjects..  
“Stan. I think I’m gay.” I finally murmured after several more tense seconds of unbearable silence had passed. Little did I know that the seconds afterwards were even more unbearable than those preceding, it was like several tons of weight had just been dropped onto my chest. Everything was tight, my eyes were nearly watery and my cheeks flushed which I knew all meant I would cry if Stan said what I feared he would say…  
But He didn’t. Instead he nods, and from what I could see, he smiled. “Hey, Don’t worry dude. You’re still my best friend-”  
That was moment three, when I knew that I loved the boy I called my best friend.  
The next didn’t come until the week after graduation, where Stan and I graduated with top honors from South Park High school, I formally told off Cartman and announced that I was gay to the entire school during my Salutatorian speech, surprising everyone but Stan in the audience, and I swore that he clapped the loudest when it was all over. I was kicked out of my house for openly coming out, but that was expected, all that mattered was that Ike accepted and loved me still. Which I had told him years previous when he was still young so he would understand. So for the meanwhile, until going to a nearby University with Stan, I was crashing at his place. Luckily his parents loved me after all the times I saved Stan’s ass during our decades of friendship, so it was no problem that I was staying there, one of the two openly gay people in our entire town.  
It was an otherwise normal friday night, sitting in Stan’s room and playing Call of Duty until it was nearly three am, a little tipsy because we had been working on this nice bottle of Vodka that Stan got from his old man as a graduation present. So when our final round ended, the two of us, sitting at the end of his bed in our pajama bottoms and tank tops, were laughing our asses off, so much so that I leaned over and rested my head on Stan’s rather comfortable shoulder..  
Our laughing began to die down slowly, but I didn’t move.  
“You know Kyle, you mean a lot to me.” He finally says after several long seconds, giving me proper reason to lift my head up and raise an eyebrow towards Stan, with his messy brunette locks and his chiseled jawline, so unlike our pudgy faces when we were kids…  
“What do you mean?” I said as I sat back up, my head turned towards him and a thoroughly confused expression on my face, after all. This wasn’t like Stan.  
But then again, when I felt his lips against my own, that wasn’t like him either .It was the kind of kiss I had been waiting for all of these years, staring at those lips and wondering what they tasted like, if they were soft…  
They were in fact the softest, and tasted of pizza and vodka, a surprisingly pleasant taste on Stan. Even as he pulled away barely enough so that our foreheads rested against each other, brunette and ginger locks crushed between our foreheads while, for a brief second our eyes met. “I love you, Kyle.”  
That was moment four, when I knew I was in love with my best friend and soon to be boyfriend.  
Moment five, will come. When I take my long-time boyfriend and now Fiancee to a church, in front of all of our friends and family we have gained through going to college together and tackling the real world as a pair. Hopefully, with my brother by my side and Stan’s family beside his as we say our vows and become Mr. and Mr. Stan and Kyle Marsh.


End file.
